Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Just as they had 10 years before, Peter and Arthur, Steve and Eddie walked on their own two feet out of the woods and back onto the main road where an ambulance was waiting for them. Hopper had protested, and Robin had fussed, but Steve insisted he was strong enough, and when Eddie took his hand in his, he knew that it was true. So they walked as one, back through the forest, Robin and Hopper staying close by their sides, and when they reached the road, they refused to leave until the ambulance took them together. 

Everything was a blur from there, triage working on them both to treat surface-level injuries, Steve being taken away to be X-rayed for suspected broken ribs and a concussion. Somewhere in there, Wayne showed up and demanded that Eddie be thoroughly checked out, too, giving a carefully abridged accounting of what he had found that morning, and Eddie’s history of respiratory issues. By magic or miracle, Eddie was given a clean bill of health, his cuts and scrapes were patched up, and he was allowed to leave. Steve, however, would be required to stay for a few days, and if he was staying, so was Eddie. He ventured out to the waiting room to give everyone the news before returning to the room and settling in for the long haul in a chair pulled up right next to the head of Steve’s bed, holding his hand and not letting go. 

It wasn’t long before Robin had dodged the nurses and made her way through the halls until she got to Steve’s room. There were tears and hugs and admonishments, and just as she had finally quieted and settled in side by side with Steve on the narrow bed, the kids found them. They poured into the small space, talking over each other in excited voices, each of them hovering over Steve and checking in on him in their own individual ways. Dustin’s hands were constantly patting at arms and legs, as though to reassure himself that he was still whole. Mike wouldn’t meet Steve’s eyes, but stood next to Will listening to Steve tell the story with rapt attention, not once interrupting in the way he normally would. Max stood off to one side, tears in her eyes but unable to speak, and Steve silently reached to slip his hand into hers and squeeze it tight. Eddie watched how they all interacted with the boy he had loved his whole life, this big, mismatched family, and it warmed his heart to think that Steve’s family was now his, too. 

Wayne found them, too, returning from the cafeteria with cups of weak coffee that he passed around to the adults in the room before settling into a plastic guest chair in the corner, listening to the chatter and the hubbub with interest. The police chief, Hopper, arrived last, coming to inform Steve that Tommy and Billy had been picked up pawning his family’s things in Marion. He said with a wink that the owner of the pawn shop was a personal friend of his, and he had called in a favor with local law enforcement. Hopper reassured them that, while Billy had been careful, Tommy had been sloppy in their crime and that they had his prints all over everything in the house. Between that and the eye-witness testimony of Steve, Robin and the kids, the two of them would be going away for a long, long time. It was a relief to know that it was over, all of it — the years of low-simmering fear and lingering dread at the hands of Billy Hargrove — were finally, finally over. Eddie could have cried if his heart weren’t so full. Across all of their heads, Steve caught his eye and smiled. 

But then a nurse came in with a surprised, horrified look on her face and kicked everyone out, admonishing them that what Mr. Harrington really needed was rest, not company, and if they cared about him as much as they said they did, they would let him sleep. Robin reluctantly peeled herself away from Steve’s side, herding the kids back down the hall with the promise of vending machine snacks if they went without a fuss. She left with a wet kiss to Steve’s forehead, and a long hug for Eddie, whispering in his ear to call her often with updates so she didn’t worry. 

“Later, dinguses,” she called as she disappeared around the corner, gaggle of kids in tow. “Love you.” 

“Love you, Robs,” Steve called back, smiling softly pleased. 

Hopper left next, offering to walk Wayne out and update him on everything that had happened that he hadn’t already heard from the perhaps exaggerated mouths of children. Wayne pulled himself up with a long look at Eddie, before approaching the bed and giving both boys a pointed, parental look. 

“I’d ask you to come home with me to rest up, son, but I can already tell that it’s no use botherin’,” he began, eyes moving back and forth between them. “What you both did today was dangerous and damn near deadly. You gave us all quite the scare, but even so, I just want to say, I’m proud of you boys. You stood up for your friends and you took care of each other and even though it was stupid, you did good, and I couldn’t ask for a better pair of boys.” 

Eddie was stunned speechless, and when he turned to glance at Steve, he could see a similar look of shock on his face as well. Wayne took a step forward and reached for his nephew, squeezing his shoulder warmly. 

“I love you, boy. Under normal circumstances I'd be insisting you come back home so I could fret over you, but I know you’ve got your own responsibilities now, your own boy to look after. Just you remember to take care of my boy as well, will you? Maybe try and eat something, and get some sleep?”

“I promise, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said, his eyes welling up with tears. Wayne tutted, squeezing him again before turning his eyes to Steve. 

“It’s good to finally meet you, Peter, officially. This one’s been holding out for the hope of you for a long time. Come ‘round for dinner sometime once you’re out, it would be good to get to know you better.” 

It was all Steve could do to nod and mumble that he would, with stars in his eyes and a crooked smile pulled across his face. Eddie would think that maybe it was the painkillers that had him so wobbly, but knowing the cold, empty home that Steve was used to, he knew better. His heart ached for Steve, ached for the way that Wayne loved him — would love them both.

Wayne and Hopper took off, and then it was only the two of them and the nurse, as she frowned at Eddie, tapping her foot. Eddie set his jaw, hands gripping at the arms of his chair and feet planted as though she might try to remove him physically. They faced off in a battle of wills, the air between them tense, until Steve cleared his throat, breaking the silence. 

“Excuse me, Angela, was it? Angela, Eddie is my boyfriend, and I’d really like him to stay with me, if that’s ok? I promise we’ll just rest.” 

He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, without shame or fear that it made Eddie’s heart stutter in his chest in a way that might be concerning if he hadn’t just been given a clean bill of health.

Angela’s eyes narrowed, moving back and forth between them, before her lips quirked up in a reluctant smile and she said, “I’ll allow it, but no funny business, you hear? You are to eat your dinner, take your meds when I tell you to, and get some actual rest.”  

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused, and with one last stern glance between them, she left the room, laughing quietly to herself. 

Relief coursed through Eddie at being allowed to stay, and he slumped down in his chair with a shoosh of held breath, before turning to check on Steve. He was blushing furiously as he stared down at his hands, fingers nervously picking at his own cuticles, refusing to meet Eddie’s eye. 

“Steve—” Eddie began, pulling his chair closer so that he could take Steve’s hand in his, ceasing his anxious movements. 

“W-was that ok?” Steve asked, shooting him a glance and then looking away, biting his lip. “I didn’t mean to assume, and I-I don’t know what you want, but she was going to make you leave, and—”

“Stevie,” Eddie hushed him, rising to perch on the edge of Steve’s hospital bed, forcing Steve to meet his eye. “Sweetheart. I am whatever you want me to be. Just don’t make us be apart again.” 

“I won’t,” Steve murmured quietly, eyes welling up as he gripped Eddie’s hands tighter. “Fuck, Eddie, I am so sorry. I was so stupid and I hurt you just like I always do—”

“Shh, Stevie,” Eddie leaned forward, knocking their foreheads together gently and making sure Steve was really seeing him, really hearing him. “We have a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out, but the good thing is — we’ve got plenty of time to do it. Our whole lives.” 

“Forever,” Steve whispered with a shuddering breath. 

“Forever,” Eddie agreed.

And they did talk, late into the night, calmly and with compassion and understanding. They talked while they settled in to get comfortable in their respective beds, the TV on low in the background, Angela sticking her head in from time to time to make sure they were resting. They talked over their bland dinners, talked late into the night after the hospital had gone still and quiet, lights dimming and people settling in for sleep. 

“I knew, that morning I knew,” Steve confessed, whispering softly across the close distance they were forced to keep, hands held between them resting on the scratchy white sheets. “You called for me in your sleep, you called, ‘Peter, Peter.’ I thought it was strange, but I didn’t fully put it together until I saw the tattoo.” 

“Oh,” Eddie said, placing a hand over his heart. The roses. “I couldn’t figure out what had changed, what I had done.” 

“No one else could have had that color, that perfect blood red that I’d been chasing my whole life. I knew it had to be you, Arthur, and I panicked. There in the sunlight I could finally see all of you, and you looked so thin, Eddie, so frail. You coughed up a rose petal that one time, Eds, I saw you and it all clicked together in my head and I knew. It was me, I was bad for you, making you sicker. I was so afraid… So I did what I had to do, I pushed you away, I shut you out. I didn’t want you to be yet another person that I had broken, just like Arthur, just like Nancy, my whole life I’ve—”

“Steve,” Eddie said sharply, forcing him to focus past his spiraling guilt and panic. “Steve, you didn’t do this to me. I don’t know how this happened or why, what kind of magic it was that bound us, but whatever it was living inside of me, that was all me. You couldn’t control it, it’s always been there inside of me. How can you blame yourself?”

“Tell me you were sick like this before you knew me? I remember you back then, you were strong, Eddie, and healthy. Tell me I’m not the one who planted this seed inside of you.” 

“That’s impossible, Steve—”

“It’s all impossible, and yet.” 

“And yet you aren’t the one who cursed us! You aren’t responsible for this magic!”

“But I am the one that hurt you!” Steve cried. “I’m the one who left!”

The monitor attached to Steve began to kick up with his heart rate, and both boys stopped, blinking owlishly at each other as they calmed their racing hearts and emotions, reclasped their hands and tried again more calmly. 

“Tell me what happened,” Eddie whispered, reverently kissing Steve’s fingers clasped between his own. “Why didn’t you come back to me in the woods? Why didn’t you call?”

Eddie watched carefully as Steve squirmed under his gaze, clearly having some kind of mental war within himself, riddled with guilt and not wanting to show this side of himself. In the end, his shoulders slumped and he looked older than his years, eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance as he opened his mouth and began his tale. 

Slowly, it unfolded. Steve told Eddie about how, after that night of their first kiss and his parents had found them walking together out of the woods, they had worked together to keep them apart. He looked ashamed as he explained that they didn’t think Eddie was an appropriate companion for their son, and that, while he himself never believed that, he was so afraid of disappointing them that he was willing to tear his own heart out to make them happy. 

“No kid should be forced to choose between their parents and their friends, Steve,” Eddie whispered, tears in his eyes as his heart broke for the sad boy he had once known, never fully understanding before the heavy weight he had been carrying. “Of course you wanted them. I could never blame you for that.” 

“I thought that if I could just be good, be less me and do exactly what they said, that it would be enough. That I would get to keep them, and then I could find a way to keep you, too. I—I loved them so much, Eddie,” Steve’s voice broke and he looked stricken, eyes wet and cheeks a mottled red. Eddie smoothed the hair back from his face, waiting patiently for him to calm again. When he did, he looked at Eddie again with a wobbly smile and squeezed his hands that much tighter. “They never deserved my love. I was never going to be enough for them.”

“Probably not,” Eddie whispered, low like a confession. “But you’re enough for me, Steve. I have loved you every single day since 1977, for exactly who you are. Honestly, I thought that I would wait for Peter forever, until you showed up.”

Steve quirked a small smile at him before his lips turned down again. “Choosing them turned me into a monster. By the time I realized the mistake I had made, there was no going back. I couldn’t find you again, I didn’t know how. So instead I tried to block out the way I hurt so much inside by making myself seem better than everyone else, above it all, cruel and uninterested. I thought if I were popular enough, drank enough, smoked enough, slept with enough girls that eventually something would make me feel the way I did in the woods with you again. But all it did was make me become the Beast. Everyone hated me, and rightfully so. I hated myself. Honestly, I don’t even know why you would want to love me now, I’ve been nothing but horrible to you for years.” 

Eddie took a moment to consider, to really think about his answer, because it was important that he get this right. Then, standing, he nudged Steve’s arm with his hip and murmured, “Scooch over?” climbing into the narrow bed and settling in next to Steve, careful to avoid any wires and the IV line in his opposite arm. He dragged his nose along the sharp point of Steve’s and made sure to look him in the eyes as he began to speak. 

“Your whole life, everyone’s always expected you to be good, to be what they wanted you to be. Now, I don’t pretend to understand what it is between us, whether it’s the blood bond or something from the woods, the roses, but I think that maybe whatever this magic was, it needed someone to see you at your worst and be able to love you anyway, just as you are.”

“Maybe,” Steve murmured, but he looked suddenly shy and pleased, a glowing pink in his cheeks replacing the mottled red from before. “But what about you, Eds? I clearly wasn’t the only one in it.”

“Me?” Eddie scoffed. “I’m just a boy who was once lucky enough to find love. I’m not anything special, there’s always been something rotten inside of me.” 

“Not rotten,” Steve breathed, slapping his hand lightly in playful admonishment. “You’ve always been so beautiful, Eds. You’ve never let anyone else tell you who to be, and that’s real beauty. Real bravery. I wish I’d had the courage to be more like you.” 

“I let myself suffocate in self-pity, I don’t think you can call that brave, Stevie,” Eddie reasoned. “I spent so many years wallowing that I think I forgot to really live.” 

Another soft look, another squeeze of their hands. “Your parents left you, too, Eddie,” Steve said softly. “I left you. You weren’t wallowing for nothing.”

“That’s the thing, though,” Eddie said sadly. “I’ve had a good life. I had Wayne — we may not have had a lot, but I had a home with a lot of love in it. I had friends, hobbies, interests. I think maybe I should have spent a lot less time dwelling over the idea that everyone was going to leave me, and instead be grateful for what I had and try to look beyond my own feelings to recognize that maybe it wasn’t that Peter had left me behind, but that Peter needed me to save him. Think about how much time we wasted because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.”

“So we’ll start now, making things better. No more wasted time.”

“It already has been better,” Eddie murmured. “Since I met you, Steve. Really met you. I have all these friends now that I didn’t have before, friends who care about me, worry about me. I have the kids…” 

Steve laughed ruefully at that. “They were so mad at me,” he chuckled, dragging his hand through his hair. “So pissed off about you, but how could I explain it to them once I had figured out who you were? It had always been my biggest fear that someday Arthur would find me again and see who I had become and how ugly I was now — Arthur, who had known the best version of me. I woke up that morning after we…” Steve’s face turned sad and serious again. “And I knew you were him. I saw how weak and sick you had become, and I just somehow knew that I had caused it, because I was a bad person and you loved me. How could I explain to them that I’m just this terrible person who makes everything worse and ugly and… I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t take you away from them and turn you into something that would hurt them, too. All I wanted my whole life was to have you back, but I couldn’t do it like that.” 

They were both crying then, softly in the quiet of the room, all their cards now on the table. 

“I let it bring out the worst in me, how much I missed you,” Steve said brokenly. 

“I let it eat me up inside, how much I missed you,” Eddie confessed. 

“So how do we go forward from here?” Steve asked, tremulous through the tears. And Eddie looked deep within himself, searching his heart to find the right answer. 

“You can love me by always showing up. Be here for me when I need you, even if it’s just to hold my hand,” he began. “And in return, I will love you without expectation, on your good days and your bad ones, too. Even if you’re a beast — maybe even especially then.” 

The smile that Steve gave him then was the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen. “Promise,” Steve agreed, holding out his left hand. 

“Promise,” Eddie said, placing his own hand into it. The scars on their palms met, pressed together as they held each other there in that small hospital bed, swearing oaths to each other just as they had when they were kids and the shared blood in their veins beat within their hearts. 

On the final day of Steve’s hospital stay, his parents arrived. Richard and Marsha Harrington were just as formidable as Eddie had made them out to be in his head, if not more so standing before him in the flesh. They walked directly into the room without so much as a knock, nurse Angela trailing behind them protesting while they ignored her, talking between themselves, and it wasn’t until both sets of cold eyes landed on Eddie perched side by side with Steve on the bed did they stop short. 

“Him,” Steve’s mother spat, her face twisted up sourly, as though she smelled something terrible in the room. “I thought we got rid of him 10 years ago?”

“Get out and leave our son alone,” Richard said in a chilling, flat tone. It took Eddie a moment to understand that Steve’s father had been speaking to him, before turning his eyes to his son and spitting vehemently, “Munson trash doesn’t deserve to be tangled up with the Harrington name. I thought we raised you better than this, son.”

The realization hit immediately in their reaction, and the way they knew his name — Steve’s parents knew who he was, had always known. And despite how much it had surely affected their son, they had been determined to keep the two of them apart. Because Eddie was a Munson, no better than the trailer park he had grown up in. One sidelong look at Steve’s pale face told Eddie that he had put it together, too. 

But what the Harringtons had never understood, what they could not have anticipated, is that the trailer park that raised Eddie had done so with love. With strength and values, generosity and fierce pride, and the kind of loyalty that all their wealth and breeding could not buy. 

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie said firmly, his voice calm and even. He reached for Steve’s hand and linked their fingers together, squeezing gently. Steve was trembling, but he squeezed back. 

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Steve asked, sounded both younger than he had in the domineering face of his parents, and also older than his years. 

“The hospital called,” she sniffed, looking put out. “Even though it sounded like you weren’t all that injured and it was all taken care of, they were very pushy about us returning from our trip to see you for ourselves. And now we have. Anyway, I could ask you the same of him. What is he doing here, Steven?”

“You didn’t care that your son was in the hospital?” Eddie demanded, anger simmering low in his gut. He wrapped a protective arm around Steve and pointed at her with his free hand. “You had to be asked to come? He’s your son—”

“That’s quite enough of that! You won’t speak to my wife in that tone again, boy,” Richard Harrington spat at him, his face turning an unflattering shade of red at Eddie’s defiance. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised by the likes of you. Now, if you don’t unhand my son and vacate the premises immediately, I’ll find someone to make you.” 

“Actually,” came a voice from behind, Angela the nurse shoving her way into the room to stand beside Eddie and Steve. “Mr. Munson here is my patient every bit as much as your son, and he will not be leaving until I say so.” 

The air was tense in the room as the adults stood in stalemate with each other, until the doctor showed up for Steve’s final examination, followed by Chief Hopper himself, who had promised to come and drive the boys home. Mrs. Harrington noticed them first, her keen eyes assessing the growing attention on them, before she placed a manicured hand on her husband’s arm and communicated something to him silently by the quirk of an eyebrow and the downturning of her lips. Richard Harrington exhaled sharply through his nose once, before turning to address Steve with ice in his tone. 

“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” he gritted out through his teeth, before turning on his heels and shoving out through the doors. “Come along, dear, let’s get out of here. I hope you got that nurse’s name because the hospital board is going to be hearing about this…”

“Don’t let the door hit’cha on the way out,” Hopper called after them. Eddie barked out an incredulous laugh. Steve didn’t make a sound, but the corners of his lips turned up just a little. Eddie pulled him in closer to his side. The Chief turned back to face them again, eyes moving between the two, assessing quickly and then biting back a pleased smile. “You two ready to blow this popsicle stand?” 

“I’ll just gather the paperwork,” Angela said, squeezing Steve’s shoulder warmly before bustling around the room. 

“And I’ll go over the medications we’re discharging you real quick and have you on your way,” echoed the doctor, both of them kind and efficient and infinitely warmer to Steve than his own parents had been. 

They were discharged within the hour. Angela gave them each a surprisingly warm hug on the way out, and Hopper walked protectively behind them. Steve and Eddie, Arthur and Peter, thanked everyone as they went, and headed out into the sunlight hand in hand. 

The ride was comfortably quiet as Hopper eased them into traffic and back across town towards Loch Nora. When they pulled up out front, Eddie’s stomach sank at the sight of the dark, gloomy exterior, and Steve didn’t look much better. There were several cars in the driveway, with signs on their doors indicating an insurance adjuster, a maid, a carpet cleaning service; the Harringtons hadn’t wasted any time making themselves look presentable. The only thing missing was their perfect, polished heir. Hopper frowned unhappily as they climbed out of the car, one after the other, but said nothing, letting them go. Steve seemed to momentarily shrink in the face of the house he had called home for so many unhappy years, but then he set his shoulders, took Eddie’s hand again, and walked toward the door. 

They were instantly greeted by a cacophony of voices and work and noise being done inside — carpets being ripped up where their son had lay bleeding on it, broken glass swept from beneath a china cabinet that had been smashed, all the while a man in a suit was compiling a list, consulting loudly with Richard about the inventory of what had been damaged or taken. It was Marsha Harrington who noticed them first, stopping short as she was barking orders to the cleaning staff. 

“Richard,” she called shrilly over her shoulder, voice going tight and high. Clearly she was trying to maintain her outward poise in front of so many eyes, but the unflattering red blotches that appeared on her cheeks told another story. “Steven, dear, don’t you think your little friend should get on home to his own family now? Surely they must be worried.”

“He’s not welcome here,” Richard said bluntly, taking over, clearly less concerned about decorum. “It’s trash like him that did this to us, ransacked our home, it’ll cost thousands to fix all the damage! It’s no wonder you got hurt, Steven, running around with the likes of him.” 

“Eddie isn’t trash,” Steve said defiantly, taking a step towards his father, half blocking Eddie from view. “Just because they both live in Forrest Hills doesn’t mean he’s anything like Billy — besides, Tommy was also involved and he’s exactly the kind of upstanding young man you seem to think so highly of!”

“Steven, you must be tired, surely you’d like to go upstairs and lie down—” 

“Clearly Tommy has made a mistake, one that I’m sure the Hagans will help him correct,” Richard cut in, interrupting his wife’s attempts at peace. He was so angry he was almost spitting the words. “But that doesn’t excuse your tone, nor you showing up here holding that boy’s hand like some kind of, of—”

“Some kind of what, Dad?” Steve challenged, voice raised loud enough to ensure that all eyes were on them now. “Say it.” 

“No son of mine—” Richard sputtered, but Steve wasn’t done. 

“Yes, a son of yours!” Steve shouted. “The only son of yours, actually! And if my boyfriend isn’t welcome in this house, then neither am I. You’ve kept him from me for long enough. It’s both of us or none of us.” 

They considered each other for a moment, neither man backing down. It seemed to be the first time that Richard Harrington became aware that his son was grown now, a man, taller and stronger than himself. 

“If you leave, you’re giving up everything,” Richard said lowly, a futile attempt at preserving any dignity he had left. 

“I never wanted it in the first place,” Steve replied calmly and surely. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, but I’ve got plenty of that where I’m going.” 

Another long pause, and then quiet enough so that only the two of them could hear it, “You have 10 minutes to pack a bag and get out.” 

He didn’t wait to say another word, Steve simply turned and walked straight up the stairs towards the bedrooms. When he returned a minute later, it was with a small stack of books under his arm, his gardening notebook, and an empty duffle bag in hand. He handed the books to Eddie — all the worn copies that had been kept in Eddie’s makeshift room — and then Steve took his hand once more and walked towards the door, stopping only to say:

“I don’t need your things, Dad. There’s nothing in this house that I will miss.” 

The door shut quietly behind them, and before Eddie could get a word in edgewise, Steve was leading him back around the house, into the backyard. They didn’t stop until they were at the greenhouse. Steve walked through the doors into the humid air where they had worked side by side to create the loveliness in the yard. 

“Steve,” Eddie murmured sadly. “The garden. Your roses.” 

Moving quickly, Steve had begun to pack up as many of the little seedlings and grafts that he could carefully fit into the duffel bag. Briefly looking up at Eddie with a soft smile, Steve said gently back, “There will always be more roses now, Eds. You and me? We can grow whatever we like.” 

Hefting the bag over his shoulder, the two of them closed up the greenhouse for the last time, and set off to walk to a gas station to call for a ride. As it turns out, they didn’t need to. Hopper was still waiting out front, smoking a cigarette against the side of his car. 

“Had a feeling you might need a ride,” was all he said. “Get in, I’ll get you two home.” 

They placed the roses carefully in the trunk before sliding side by side into the back seat once more. Eddie reached across the middle and Steve immediately placed his hand in his. They drove away; Steve had left behind his clothes, all his belongings, his trophies and photos, the car. Eddie worried that he wouldn’t be enough, that he didn’t have anything to offer. As if he was reading his mind, Steve turned to him and smiled, whispering quietly enough so that only Eddie could hear over the hum of the engine and the low pulse of the radio:

“The only thing I want is you.” 

It was all that needed to be said. 

The cruiser pulled up in front of the Munson trailer just as Wayne was sliding out of his truck with a bagful of groceries in his arm. It was hours before he was supposed to be home, but Eddie’s uncle looked unperturbed, nodding cordially at the Chief before heading inside. 

“I put in a call, thought old Wayne could use a night off,” Hopper mumbled, not meeting their eyes as they climbed out of his car. “And that maybe you two boys could use a night at home with your dad.” 

Steve looked a little watery at that, smile wobbly on his face and his cheeks pink. Eddie himself had to swallow around a lump in his throat, barely able to believe that they had finally gotten here. A family, together. They turned as one to look back at the Chief. 

“Dad,” Steve whispered to himself, incredulous and more than a little tremulous. 

“He’s a good one, kid,” Hop said to Steve, a rare moment of earnestness, before slapping the top of his cruiser, clearing his throat gruffly and climbing back behind the wheel. Then, to Eddie, he said, “Take care of him, will you? Both of you. And keep out of trouble for once, eh, Munson?”

“You got it, Chief,” Eddie called, shit-eating grin pulling wide across his face. “Nothing illegal to see here!”

The Chief pulled away with an — affectionate? — grumble out the window and a wave of his hands. Eddie watched him go incredulously; this was Steve’s good graces, clearly. Whatever it was, he was determined to try and earn it. 

“After you,” Eddie said, gesturing toward the door as he bowed. “Your highness.” 

Steve blushed, and he looked lovely, lovely there in the patchy grass of Forest Hills, pleased to be invited inside of a trailer framed with blood red roses as though it were as fine as any place he had ever been. Eddie slung the strap of Steve’s duffel over his shoulder and offered him his hand. 

Immediately upon entering, they were enveloped in the savory scent of tomatoes and garlic, and a purposeful, homey bustling noise. There was a radio on in the kitchen that Wayne was humming along to, and the fan in the corner rattled as it oscillated back and forth, and Steve looked… overwhelmed. 

“Steve?” Eddie asked quietly, placing a hand on his arm to draw his attention back. “Wanna get the roses put away and get you settled in?”

Poking his head around the corner, Wayne added, “Just gotta let the sauce simmer for a bit, dinner in an hour, sound good? Hope you like spaghetti, Steve. Welcome to our home.” 

And Steve could only nod silently, clearly unused to being asked his opinion. Eddie huffed a small laugh, kissed him briefly on his temple before taking Steve’s arm and leading him back out to the small seating area in front of the trailer, under the awning, where Eddie had stowed his meager gardening tools. They worked with practiced hands stowing the little seedlings and grafts away for the night, keeping them safe from overnight critters, until they could find a home for them in the morning. 

“I don’t know where we’re gonna put them,” Eddie murmured, worrying the corner of his lip between his teeth. “We don’t have a lot of room here at the trailer park, and we’ve already got so many roses now, Steve. Your beautiful roses.” 

But rather than look disappointed or affronted or concerned about it, Steve simply smiled at him, then looked out past Eddie’s shoulder, taking in the glorious crush of red that framed the trailer now on every end. When he finally spoke, it was matter-of-fact. “We can plant them in the clearing, Eddie. Take them back home again, let them bloom there for others to find too, just like we did.” 

“Just like we did,” Eddie echoed; his heart was so full. 

“Boys,” Wayne called from inside. “Ten minutes, come and wash up!”

They did as they were told, both a little starstruck as they stood next to each other in the small bathroom, sharing the sink and blushing whenever their eyes met in the mirror. 

By the time they were done, Wayne was placing the last of the dishes on the table — a heaping pot of pasta, a simple side salad, and even a warm loaf of garlic bread. Eddie smiled to himself; he knew that most nights, Ragu was perfectly acceptable at their table, but he could tell by the fragrant herbs and tangy tomato smell wafting up from the bowl that Wayne had wanted to show off a little for the newest member of the family. It was no chicken piccata, but Wayne's homemade spaghetti sauce could stand on its own. As they pulled up their chairs, Wayne dished up a generous plate and handed it to Steve. 

“Don’t be shy, Steve, we don’t stand on ceremony here,” Wayne said gruffly. “Eat up, there’s plenty more where that came from. It's my own secret recipe.”

Eddie hid his smile behind a slice of bread, but when Steve looked just as nervous and pleased as Wayne, taking a big bite of spaghetti and then rolling his eyes back dramatically at the taste, making his uncle beam with pride, Eddie couldn’t hide it any longer. He melted, right then and there. 

“Stop lookin’ goofy at me, boy,” Wayne huffed, pretending to be annoyed. “Your food’s gettin’ cold.” 

There was nothing else to say to that, so Eddie dug in, smiling all the while. 

If he had been worried that having Steve in his home would be awkward or at all uncomfortable, Eddie’s fears disappeared over that dinner table. The conversation was a little stilted at first — the Munson men not used to having much company — but Steve brought out a side in Wayne that Eddie hadn’t seen in years, not since he himself was a scared, unsure boy who had found his way into that trailer. Or maybe it was vice versa, and Wayne’s steadiness brought out Steve’s voice, so he wasn’t afraid to talk or express himself openly. Whatever it was, the two struck up a cautious back and forth that quickly grew into a comfortable banter. And once the subject of sports was introduced, forget about it. Steve threw his head back and laughed at something Wayne said, while his uncle wiped his eyes and slapped Steve playfully on the shoulder, and there again… Eddie melted. He felt like his old self again, felt like Arthur again, soft and optimistic and warmed by love. 

When dinner was done, Eddie and Steve dutifully began to carry everything into the small kitchen to wash, but Wayne stopped them with a hand on Eddie’s arm and said, “Why don’t we let those soak for a bit while we all take a break and spend some time together.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline — let the dishes soak? For as long as Eddie had lived in that house, it had been his job to wash up after dinner before he was allowed to do anything else. 

“You hush, boy,” Wayne muttered under his breath, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled with mirth. Then, louder, he called out over Eddie’s shoulder, “Steve, do you want to put on a pot of coffee? I got us a pie from the diner on my way home, thought it might be nice to have while we get to know each other a little better.”

And so they did. The three of them tucked themselves into place around the TV — Eddie and Steve side by side on the couch, Wayne in his old recliner. They caught the second half of a baseball game, which both Wayne and Steve became instantly invested in and Eddie pretended to hate. They ate cherry pie with vanilla ice cream that Eddie had dug out of the freezer and all of them complained that they were way too full when it was done. Once the game was over, the boys moved to carry the bowls to the kitchen, and Wayne stood up with a yawn and a long stretch. 

“Y’know, boys, it’s not often that I get a night to myself,” Eddie’s uncle mused, looking between them with a slight twinkle in his eye. “Think I might wander over to Benny’s, see what he’s up to. Have a few beers, maybe stay awhile.” 

Eddie beamed at his uncle; there were too few nights like this one where Wayne had time off, and even less that weren’t somehow tied up in his nephew. But then, that Munson shit-eating grin growing wider on his uncle’s face, Wayne leaned in closer to Eddie’s ear and whispered, “In case you two need to… talk.”

Face going immediately red, Eddie squawked, nearly dropping the bowl in his hand. Wayne threw his head back and laughed heartily, turning toward the door to grab his jacket from off the hook, letting himself out. 

“Have a nice time,” Steve called out from the sink, his hands already working in the warm, soapy water. 

“You boys do the same,” Wayne called back with another sly laugh, and Eddie shoved him the rest of the way out, slamming the door shut behind him. He put his hands to his warm cheeks and breathed in a fortifying breath, willing the blush he was sure was visible from space to cool as he walked slowly back across the small room to help Steve dry. 

The music was pleasant as they stood hip to hip, some old country station that Wayne was partial to. Steve washed, Eddie dried, and with every dish that was passed from one to the other, their fingers met in the middle and Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. He showed Steve where everything was kept, the pots and pans, the plates, the cups and finally the mugs, looping his pointer finger through the handles of the mismatched set they had used for their coffee, walking them back into the living room. Steve followed him, looking around the space hesitantly, but with greater interest now that Wayne was gone. 

“Mugs go in here,” Eddie said, placing each one on the hook or shelf where it lived, integral parts of Wayne’s odd collections all of them. “You better not try and put them in a cabinet, he’d probably have a heart attack if he thought one was missing.” 

Steve looked at him curiously, moving closer to the wooden shelves over their lumpy old couch, examining each mug with care. “Are they special?” 

“Nah,” Eddie said with a laugh. “Just mugs he picked up here and there until it kind of became a thing. Now he collects ‘em, I get him the ugliest one I can find every year for Christmas.” 

A delighted laugh fell from Steve’s lips, bright and bubbly. It wasn’t the mean kind of laugh he had been known for in the past, not like he was laughing at them, but as though the thought of an ugly mug collection genuinely thrilled him. 

“What happens if you want a drink?” he asked.

“They’re just mugs, Steve,” Eddie said, pulling a lock of hair across his face to hide his smile,  helplessly charmed. “You pick the one you like best and you use it.”

“I think they’re special,” Steve muttered to himself, brow furrowed as he picked up and turned them in his hands, inspecting each one closely as though they were something precious. Landing on a small teacup that they rarely used — too small for a good cup of coffee — he lifted it up to show Eddie. “I think I like this one. It has a chip in it, but it’s still nice.” 

Eddie grinned. “It’s yours. Hope you like tea.” 

It was Steve’s turn to blush. He smiled radiantly back at Eddie, as though nothing in his whole life had made him as happy as that chipped, mismatched teacup. “I do like tea,” he said quietly in thanks.

“We’ll have to get you some then,” Eddie whispered back, and there it was again, that blush. 

“What else does your uncle collect?” Steve asked. Eddie snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“What doesn’t he collect? Here, I’ll show you.” 

So Eddie took him on a small tour of the space, telling the story of Wayne’s old hats, their knickknacks and the books that littered every surface. Things they had acquired over the years, things they loved. Their bookshelves were pressboard, wobbly and the shelves bowed, but Steve went from item to item, into each nook and cranny, with a real, excited interest. It was just their home, crowded and overfilled, but apparently to Steve, it was better than the finest castle. 

“Do you,” Eddie began, and faltered. He bit his lip, summoned his courage and tried again. “Do you want to see my room?” 

Wordlessly, Steve followed him, down the narrow hallway to the closed door in back. Silently he said a prayer that the place was somehow better than he knew he had left it, sick as he was, and to his unending gratitude Eddie found that Wayne had tidied up in there, made the bed with fresh linens and at the very least, deposited all of Eddie’s dirty clothes from the floor into the hamper. 

Eddie held the door and Steve entered the space, poking around at all of Eddie’s odds and ends just as he had done in the living room while Eddie watched, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously. He was jolted from his thoughts when Steve plunked down onto his bed, sitting on the edge and stretching with a wide yawn. He blinked up at Eddie with a wobbly smile, and fuck, yeah, they were doing this. 

“Look, Steve,” Eddie began, anxiously fiddling with the rings on his fingers as he tried to keep himself from outright pacing back and forth. “Just because we’ve… um.” 

Steve tucked his lips into his mouth, biting back a smile as he watched Eddie stumble. He didn’t say anything, only reached out a hand to take Eddie’s in his and squeeze it encouragingly. 

“I’m not expecting anything,” Eddie blurted out in a rush. “We don’t have a lot of space, but I can sleep on the couch. Or, well… I mean, I can’t sleep on the couch, Wayne sleeps there, but that doesn’t mean… I can sleep on the floor! Or, um…in the van?”

“Are you done?” Before Eddie could answer, Steve was on his feet, cupping Eddie’s face in his and he kissed him. 

There were no words after that; there was no need. Their hearts and bodies and the blood that moved through them knew the steps to this dance. 

They made love, but it was nothing like their first time together, possessive and desperately trying to hold onto something too fragile. This was settled and sure, a confident give and take of adoration and pleasure. Eddie couldn’t even remember the beats in hindsight, how they had gotten onto the bed, who undressed who, only that they were there together, kissing endlessly.

Steve took his time with him, working Eddie up towards the edge again and again, as though he could press all of the love he’d held for him for 10 years into Eddie’s skin. 

“Steve, fuck Steve, ah! There, there!” Eddie cried, body arching up off the bed, sweaty and overstimulated, and so, so close. Steve’s fingers slowed instantly, calming to a more languid push and pull until they were barely moving anymore. The room was dark, but Eddie could see Steve’s eyes on him, keenly attentive as they moved across his body by the light of the moon. Again and again, they returned to Eddie’s lips, swollen from kissing, to the way his pulse rabbited in his neck, and his chest rose and fell around harsh breaths, to Eddie’s cock, hard and leaking and untouched between his legs. “Please, please!”

“Baby,” Steve sighed, his voice sounding concerned while his eyes sparkled and he seemed to be suppressing a smile. He leaned in to hide it by pressing a kiss along Eddie’s thigh, scraping his teeth over the bruises that had already been sucked into his milky skin. “Aw, my love, are you sure you’re ready for this to be over? We’ve waited this long, surely you can let me love you for just a little bit longer?”

It was the third time that Steve had built him up higher and higher, getting Eddie right there and then shying away. He’d worked three fingers into him by then, working slowly and meticulously through it, all the while lavishing praise at every turn, and the kissing. Eddie would feel bad for being so useless if his body weren’t a livewire of sensation, trembling at every breath, every brush of skin on skin. And then there was Steve; Steve, who seemed to be enjoying his part in dolling out the sweetest torture. Steve, whose confidence and joy only seemed to grow with it. 

Distantly, Eddie knew that Wayne would eventually return. Much more pressingly, Eddie needed to come now.

“Sweetheart,” he keened, reaching for Steve to pull him up until their faces met, so he could kiss his pleas for mercy into Steve’s jaw, his throat. “I need you, please, I’m ready. I love you, just please.”

“You love me?” Steve asked, as though there could be any other answer than yes. 

“Always,” Eddie cried. “Forever. Don’t make me wait any longer to have you.”

“You’ll always have me,” Steve whispered, capturing his mouth in a soft, reverent kiss. “I’d never deny you anything you ask for. I’m yours.”

That time it was Eddie who kissed him, so overcome with emotions and love that it felt imperative that their mouths were on each other right that instant. It was intoxicating, Steve’s plush lips, the deft way he slid his tongue between Eddie’s lips, the little sounds he made. Eddie got lost in it, content to kiss until the sun rose until Steve broke it with a rough, breathless chuckle. He pulled back, hooking his arm beneath Eddie’s knee to pull his leg up over his hip. Eddie could feel the drag of Steve’s skin along his inner thighs, the tensing and flexing of muscles, and his entire body lit up with anticipation of what came next. 

“If you don’t stop kissing me,” Steve panted, his tone focused but affectionate. “We’ll never get around to the thing you say you can’t live without. Now, tell me what feels good, ok?”

You feel good, Eddie thought. The way you love me feels good. But then he couldn’t think any longer as he felt Steve’s cock press with intent against his rim, slick and warm. With an almost pained noise, Steve began to push in, and Eddie had to close his eyes against the dizzying blur of his vision, his body arching up and mouth falling open in a shuddering gasp. It was better than he remembered, and Eddie could feel every delicious inch of him, moving slowly, filling him up. 

“Breathe, love,” Steve reminded him, his own breath hitching on the words. “You’re so perfect, take another breath.” 

Eddie did as he was told and breathed in deep — when had he stopped? — clinging to Steve above him, the sole grounding force on his horizon. Slowly, he began to relax, melting into the mattress as continued to rock his hips forward in slow, careful movements until they were finally skin to skin and Eddie’s entire being was on fire.

“Good,” Steve purred, pressing hot kisses along Eddie’s jaw as he held himself still, allowing Eddie time to adjust. “So fucking good for me, Eds.” Eddie whined and writhed, hooking his leg up higher above Steve’s hip and nudging his heel into the small of his back. Steve laughed roughly, but readily obliged, picking up a steady pace that made everything inside turn molten, sparks lighting up behind his eyes. Eddie’s world narrowed until it was nothing more than the feel of Steve’s skin against his, the sound of his breath in his ear, and the blinding light that Steve was filling him with. 

And then Steve changed the angle and there was no more conscious awareness of anything. Eddie’s head dropped back on a desperate moan, and he allowed himself to be carried off by the sensation of Steve loving him so thoroughly. 

Despite the way Steve had teased him, this time the build was slower, stronger, a blooming, tremulous tide of pleasure starting low in his gut as it rose and rose. Eddie could feel it splashing at his shores, just out of reach, ready to quench the fire that was raging within him. He was shaking with it, vibrating apart at the anticipation, face buried in Steve’s neck, the salt of Steve’s sweat on his tongue. He didn’t know what he needed, was afraid he’d floated so far out that no one would ever find him again, but Steve did. Steve always knew just what he needed. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?” came Steve’s voice, breathless in his ear. Blinking back into awareness at the sound, Eddie could feel the tension in Steve’s body, the desperate press of his teeth into Eddie’s skin. “I love you, Eddie. I want you to come for me.” 

With those words, the angle changed. Steve pulled himself up until he was kneeling between Eddie’s legs, leaving Eddie spread out before him, sweaty and desperate and nearly glowing in the moonlight. Steve groaned like the sight pained him, before taking Eddie in hand and snapping his hips forward again at the same time. He began to circle and twist his fist in time with his hips, and Eddie wailed at everything he was feeling, just this side of too much. The fire inside his chest burned as the tide continued to rise, building, cresting, crashing down. Eddie arched up into the pleasure, and there was no sight, no sound, only the blinding light of a starburst whiting out his vision. 

Distantly, Eddie was aware that Steve was still moving, sobbing out a broken, animal sound before stilling above him. He wished for a moment that he could feel less so that he could capture all of the details of Steve’s release to keep in his mind forever — the little whines and gasps, the way that Steve was shaking, the warmth spilling inside of him, filling him up with more of those stars. Eddie knew that he’d never remember it in the morning, the perfect, precious way that Steve loved him. 

But there was always tomorrow. There was a lifetime of love left for them to make. Eddie giggled; he suddenly felt lighter than air.  

“What?” Steve asked hoarsely, the sound muffled with the way Steve’s face was pressed into the crook of Eddie’s neck, his body collapsed down on top of him, unmoving. “Why’re you laughing?”

“Nothing,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss into the damp, wild hair at the top of Steve's head. “I just love you is all.” 

Steve mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “After that, you’d better,” and Eddie laughed some more, wriggling a little to signal that he wanted to move. Steve grunted, and pulled out slowly before flopping onto his back in a wide starfish across Eddie’s bed. Eddie shivered at the loss of him, but was determined to give back in some small way. He hauled himself up on shaky legs and tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom, cleaning himself off quickly and efficiently before returning to the bedroom with a warm, wet rag. Eddie locked the door behind him — he knew Wayne would never enter his room without knocking first, especially now, but better safe than sorry — and set about the business of getting them ready for sleep. 

He skirted the bed, crawling up alongside Steve in the little space he had left. Steve was snoring softly, and Eddie hated to wake him when he looked so peaceful, but even so, a small part of him thrilled to see Steve’s eyes open again as he dragged the cloth along his skin, cleaning him of any lingering mess before pulling the comforter up over him. Steve smiled, a little crooked and bleary eyed, but he lifted his arms and held them out for Eddie. 

“Scooch over,” Eddie whispered, nudging Steve gently with his hip. Steve grunted, but wiggled to the side a little, leaving marginally more room for Eddie in his own bed. “Never shared a bed with anyone before. You take up so much room.” 

Steve laughed softly, tugging Eddie down until he was settled against his chest, wrapped up tight in his arms. “Think you can make room in your life for me?”

And the answer was the same as before. 

“Always.”

- Epilogue -

Steve

From the beginning, Steve Harrington had been raised in expectation. It grounded him, tied him to the earth. Be good, look nice, show strength and keep quiet; these were the rules that he had lived by for so long until they crushed him, isolated him and changed him into something other than himself. He never knew that he could have a life somewhere else, where the only expectations were for him to be happy, to talk openly as loud as he liked, to love and be loved. Finally freed from the weight he had carried all those years spent alone in that house, Steve was allowed to soar. 

There were days when Steve could still feel the beast inside of him, still felt mean and ugly and harsh. He hated himself for so many things — for leaving when they were kids, for running when he should have stayed. Slowly but surely, though, those Munson men were teaching him how to change, teaching him how to be happy, and to forgive himself. Some days it felt like it was impossible that anyone could want him when his own parents hadn’t, but then he would look to his Arthur — his Eddie — who had waited for him, who had stayed. Eddie had looked beyond the surface and found what was soft in him again and loved him for it, despite everything, and he made it feel possible that maybe, just maybe, Steve wasn’t a beast at all. 

He looked at Eddie a lot those days — couldn’t look away, if he was being honest. He was so proud of the man Arthur had become, still true to the child he had been back when they met all those years ago in the dark of the woods. So brave, so good. A graduate now, there at the beginning of the rest of his life, and somehow, inexplicably, they were going to build it together. 

Eddie walked the stage on a bright June morning, graduating a decade after their first meeting. In the end, given the gravity of his mysterious illness (or more likely because it would look bad for everyone involved to keep him around for another year), the school had taken pity on him and let him have his diploma. Steve was seated in his old high school gymnasium right next to Wayne, holding a bouquet of wildflowers and listening attentively as the valedictorian was giving her speech about the future. He tried to focus, but every so often Steve’s gaze would catch Eddie’s face in the crowd, flushed pink with excitement where he sat in a sea of green caps and gowns, turned back to look for Steve. Their eyes would meet, and Eddie would smile at him in a way that set his mind loose again, lost in a daydream. The future. Their future. 

They would need to get their own place soon, he realized. Steve was certain that Wayne would keep them for as long as they liked, but it was a little cramped with the three of them, not to mention Robin and all the kids. Somewhere to spread out a bit would be good, somewhere close. He would need to get a job sooner than later; the Munsons were generous with everything they had, but he wanted to contribute. Steve had never wanted to contribute before, had never taken pride in helping to build something meant to last. Eddie had talked about maybe going to trade school in the fall, to try his hand at becoming a welder or a tattoo artist maybe, or... perhaps to learn about car mechanics in a real way, and not just the bits and pieces he had gleaned from his dad and his uncle and Steve. He liked working with his hands, and he kind of liked the smell of motor oil now that it reminded him of some of the happier times in his life, so why not? Steve thought that maybe he’d go with him, take some classes at the community college until he could figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up that wasn’t just Richard Harrington’s son. He knew it didn’t matter; there was a world of possibilities that he’d never thought he’d get to have, and a father figure who would be proud of him no matter what he chose. 

In the meantime, there was the celebration dinner he was cooking for Eddie. There were the loose shingles on the roof that he had promised Wayne he’d take care of for him. And there were roses to tend to, beautiful roses in vibrant blood red, thriving in the garden they were building together around the house. There were roses in their clearing again, and so many wildflowers, a beautiful chaos of color and careful precision, existing together in harmony. It had become a place for the kids to escape to, a refuge, a retreat. Some nights, he and Eddie would sneak out through the woods, with blankets and thermoses full of cocoa to lay amongst the sleeping flowers and watch the stars. Steve had to keep it nice for them, he wanted there to be roses in the little clearing for generations of whoever might need to find them. Maybe I could become a gardener, he thought, take a class or two. But then they were calling Eddie’s name up on stage and he was on his feet instead, shouting wildly over the polite applause. 

Whatever would come, Steve Harrington knew that they didn’t need much; they didn’t need a fine castle or magic or money. Robin and the kids, Eddie and Wayne had all shown him that love comes without expectation, and that treasure isn’t always material. Their happily ever after was sitting all around them now, clapping and whistling at the boy walking across the stage. It was in the roses that grew wherever they were, the books they read together in their new little makeshift library crammed in alongside the mugs and the baseball caps, the home that they were building. Their happily ever after was in the love they had planted when they were first little kids, carried dormant through time until they could find each other again, and blooming now once more in the light of the glorious life they would live together forever. Always. 

The End.